High Impact (21 page)

“I don’t get the same reaction with everyone. Most of the time, I just get this weird feeling, and I see an aura around them briefly when we meet.”

“An aura?”

“A shimmering ribbon of light that conforms to their silhouette.”

“Fascinating. Did you see one around me?”

“Yup.”

A look of realization came into Emery’s eyes. “Did your blackout have something to do with this?”

“I’m certain it did. Probably kind of an overload when we shook hands. I’ve been a bit leery, as I think you know, about touching you again. Especially in front of others. I’ve never fainted before.”

“Couldn’t something else, like a medical condition, have caused it?”

“I’m very healthy. I had my annual physical a month ago. Dita requires it. My gift
sometimes does a number on my body. During my period of waiting and anticipating, I’ll feel really hot, or like all my nerve endings are stretched tight. Or my stomach knots.” Her mind raced to come up with a clear explanation. “Like a boxer must feel right before the big bout, or a ballerina about to go onstage. A bundle of nerves and restless energy. Somehow, touching you releases that energy as a very real spark.”

“So if you touch me right now, it’ll happen again?” Emery asked.

“I honestly don’t know. My intuition’s been acting screwy recently. I’m not sure what’ll happen.”

Emery held out her hands, palms up. “Try it and let’s see.”

Pasha was excited. Emery accepted everything she’d told her and wanted to discover more. They were so close Pasha didn’t even have to move her chair to reach her. She held her hands out flat, palms down, but before she touched Emery, she said, “Indulge me, will you? Close your eyes. Tell me what you feel.”

“All right.”

This time when they touched, another spark leapt between them, but much less intense. Pasha also felt another surge in the euphoric bliss and pulled her hands away.

“Static electricity again, but not nearly as strong,” Emery reported.

“Okay. Now look at me and let’s try it again.”

Emery gazed so intently into her eyes that Pasha felt the power increase even before they touched, and when they did, the bliss crested again and swept her up in another emotional tsunami. She could almost weep from the joy infusing her. However, she could barely discern the static-electric spark that had caught Emery’s attention.

She felt almost disappointed until she recognized the pattern and understood why. Their first real touch in the Den, when they shook hands, had affected them the strongest; after all her days of anticipation, the release of the pent-up energy had overwhelmed her and she’d blacked out. Since then, the voltage of their encounters had varied and seemed related to how long they’d been apart.

At least she knew she could touch Emery without passing out. She just had to be careful if a long time elapsed between occasions. She almost laughed out loud. The more she touched Emery, the less chance she would faint.
Cool.

At some point while Pasha had been absorbed in her thoughts, their hands had relaxed and entwined. She wasn’t certain which, if either, of them had initiated it.

“Hardly felt any electricity that time.” Emery’s eyes locked with hers. “But…that sense of feeling almost giddy-happy has come back. Difficult to describe, but it’s…it’s very nice. And very strong right now.”

“I think I know exactly what you’re feeling.”

“It’s…well, it’s very
different,
isn’t it?” Emery smiled.

Pasha had to laugh. This was going better than she could have hoped. “Yup. It is that.”

“I’ll need a while to understand.”

“I think we’ve got a good bit. You’re scheduled for the big rafting trip right after this one, as I recall.”

“Yes. You, too?”

Pasha nodded. “And Chaz again as well. All women, and ten days in the wilderness.”

“Excellent.”

Pasha reluctantly removed her hands from Emery’s. “We’d better get going on your haircut, if you still want one before the others get back.”

“I do.”

“I can do a better job if we wet your head.” She got to her feet and hefted the pot she heated coffee water in. Quite a bit was left, and when she poured some over her hand she found it still warm. “This’ll do.” She set it behind Emery’s chair and almost automatically reached for Emery’s turtleneck collar to fold it down and tuck it into the towel. She wanted to gain access to the nape of her neck and keep the cut hairs from getting all over her clothes.

But as soon as Emery felt her hands there, she brought her own up abruptly. “Stop. I don’t like my neck exposed.”

“All right.” The sudden chill in Emery’s tone and especially the faint flickering of her aura surprised Pasha. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, Pasha. I’m the one who should apologize. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just…just a personal thing.” Emery pulled her hair away from her neck and fastened the towel over her turtleneck, then leaned back to let Pasha wet her hair.

Pasha poured the water slowly, careful to keep Emery’s clothes dry, and ran her hands through the dark strands to make sure it all got wet. Another small spark of electricity arched from her fingertips at the first touch, and the now-familiar euphoria blossomed and coursed through her. “Okay, that’s good.” She pressed the ends of Emery’s hair in the towel to keep it from dripping. “You can sit up now.”

“I really am sorry.”

“We all have things we find difficult to talk about.” Pasha ran her large-toothed comb through Emery’s hair. “I always worry about how people will react when I tell them about my sixth sense. Some think psychic abilities belong in the same category as unicorns and leprechauns. Or that those who claim to have them are delusional.”

“I have no problem believing mysterious things are at work in the universe. Miracles happen every day.”

“Yup. They certainly do.” Pasha picked up her scissors. “Okay. Here we go. Want just a light trim or do you trust me to do what’s best for your hair?”

Emery turned and looked into her eyes. “I trust you.”

She started cutting, taking more care and time than needed just to make sure she did a job Emery would be happy with. Pasha had worked at the salon as an assistant, washing hair, sweeping up, and doing blow-dries. But several of the stylists had showed her how to cut hair, and she’d since been servicing a lot of her friends. Dita wanted her short-cropped cut trimmed every couple of weeks. “So, Emery, you know my story. The most important parts, anyway.” Snip. Snip. “Are you ready to tell me what precipitated such a big change in your lifestyle?”

“You know, I wondered why you seemed to sense more about me than anyone I’ve ever met,” Emery said. “Your questions take me to places I try to avoid.”

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Emery, or have you volunteer anything you’re not ready to,” Pasha replied gently. “Though it often helps to talk about painful things.”

Emery rarely allowed herself to think about that day in Sofia, and other events that still gave her nightmares. Doing so left her depressed and anxious. With Pasha, however, she could revisit the past. Since her recuperation, Emery had rarely wanted to get close to anyone beyond the occasional sexual liaison. But her inexplicable connection with Pasha reached beyond a mere craving for physical intimacy. She felt compelled to see where it might lead, and that could only happen if she helped Pasha understand what had made her the person she’d become. “I told you my parents were killed by a drunk driver when I was ten. I didn’t tell you I was in the car, too.”

“Oh, Emery.” Pasha stopped and put a hand on Emery’s shoulder.

The simple gesture strengthened and calmed her, as though she’d received a fast-acting drug. “We hit a big delivery truck broadside when he ran a red light. My dad couldn’t see him because of a building on that corner.” Emery’s hands curled into fists. “The impact crushed the front of our car and killed them instantly. I was in the backseat. Both my legs were broken in several places, along with my hip and my left arm. The first police on the scene told reporters they couldn’t believe anyone lived through it, but I never lost consciousness. I remember it all.”

Pasha exhaled loudly. “Jesus.”

“Ten years later, in college, a group of us went to a football game one afternoon,” Emery said. “The wind came up during the fourth quarter and the sky grew dark, but it didn’t rain, just misted.” She forced herself to picture the players on the field and not the faces of her friends. “We stood on the sidelines watching the last minutes because we wanted to reach the parking lot before the big rush. Out of nowhere, a massive bolt of lightning struck the edge of the field near us.” Her voice shook, so she took a few deep breaths. “Initially everything inside me seemed to boil, building pressure, like my insides were melting. I couldn’t see or hear anything, or move, or talk. But, almost hyperaware, I knew what was happening with my body. My heart pounded, then stopped. Paramedics managed to start it again and I ended up in the hospital for a couple of weeks, but fully recovered. I didn’t learn until several days after the accident that two friends standing next to me had died instantly.”

Pasha’s arms wrapped around Emery’s neck from behind in a comforting embrace. Another wave of calm infused her, allowing her to push past her grief.

“About two years ago, I got on an elevator in a hotel in Sofia, Bulgaria. I’d just made a delivery to a client when that big earthquake hit. Remember? I was alone. Trapped. The cable snapped, and the elevator fell eight stories.”

Pasha gasped. “Dear God.”

“The impact shattered my legs and pelvis, and broke a couple of bones in my back, a few ribs, my jaw. I almost drowned in my own blood.”

Pasha caressed her back.

“The doctors couldn’t believe I survived. After two weeks in a coma, I woke to the news that I’d probably never walk again. It took a lot of metal pins and more than a year of healing, surgeries, and physical therapy to prove them wrong.” Reliving her trio of near-death experiences taxed her more than she anticipated and suddenly left her emotionally drained and physically exhausted.

“I don’t know what to say, Emery. I wish I could take away some of what you’ve suffered. You’re a hell of a strong woman to have survived and come out whole.”

Whole? She didn’t feel whole. Not yet. She’d hoped by now to face the end of each day without needing a painkiller to help her sleep. To run like she used to. And her emotional deficiency was worse. No matter how amazing her latest adrenaline-rush escapade—whether from an extreme sport or passion-filled woman—she remained hollow inside. “In a situation like that, you either have to give up or believe the unbelievable. Maybe that’s why I don’t find it hard to accept your unusual abilities. None of us really knows our hidden strengths or talents until something happens to test us.”

“I don’t understand something.” Pasha resumed cutting Emery’s hair. “After enduring all that, how can you so cavalierly put yourself in danger?”

“Don’t you get it? In all my accidents I merely followed my everyday, same-old-thing routine. I didn’t do anything risky, but I nearly died anyway.
Three times
, Pasha. How long before my luck runs out? How often can anyone cheat death? I’d rather die living life to the absolute fullest—and look back with absolutely no regrets—than have another freak mishap cut me down before I pursue my dreams.”

“You sound like you’re expecting another accident any minute.” Pasha came around in front of Emery and started to trim her bangs. “Surely you don’t think you’re doomed to die young, do you?”

“I’m just more aware than most that we have only limited time. One shot, and it flies by or is taken from you before you know it. I spent months in that hospital bed examining my life. I worked like a fiend to guarantee a nice retirement, wasting my healthy years. Do you know what dying people regret the most? The majority wish they’d had the courage to live a life true to themselves, not the one others expected of them.”

“Is that what you did? Lived up to someone else’s expectations?”

“To a certain extent. My fear of giving up a good job and comfortable home for the unknown held me back, but I also made a lot of decisions to keep my girlfriend happy.”

“Is she still your girlfriend?”

“No. Not any more.” Emery didn’t want to elaborate and hoped Pasha wouldn’t ask. She still carried a lot of guilt about Lisa and didn’t want to have to deal with it along with the other difficult memories this conversation had stirred up.

“I absolutely believe you have to live a life true to yourself.” Pasha stooped to assess her results so far, then stood to Emery’s left to resume cutting. “But don’t you think you can share your life with someone?”

“I’m just not wired to fall in love. And a one-sided relationship always hurts the other person.”

Pasha put a calming hand on her shoulder again and somewhat eased the resurfacing tug of guilt. “You shouldn’t kick yourself because things didn’t work out, not if you told her the truth.”

“What about you? Ever serious about anyone?”

“No.” Snip. Snip. Snip. “I had a few relationships that lasted some months, or a couple of years at most. But never really serious. More great friends with side benefits.”